The Force of Love
by WordsObsessed
Summary: A Healer stood in the flung-back door, clutching a mewling bundle and tears streaming down her exerted face. She opened her mouth to say something to the man staring at her – but nothing came out, and there was silence in the room behind her, and still the Healer wept, and still the baby cried. Sirius' knees gave out and he crumpled. His howls were heard throughout St Mungo's.


**A/N: I haven't written for a very, very long time, but I do hope that you enjoy this :D x**

_Bang bang bang bang. _

Sirius' feet pounded the corridor.

_Bang bang bang bang. _

Back and forth, back and forth outside the double doors.

_Bang bang bang bang._

Every step ground into the floor as he gnashed his teeth and flexed his feet.

_Bang!_

A Healer stood in the flung-back door, clutching a mewling bundle and tears streaming down her exerted face. She opened her mouth to say something to the man staring at her – but nothing came out, and there was silence in the room behind her, and still the Healer wept, and still the baby cried.

Sirius' knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor.

His howls were heard throughout St Mungo's.

* * *

_"Honey! I'm home!"_

_Instantly there was a clattering from above him as his curly-haired wife raced down the stairs to meet him in the hall. He'd known her since her mid-teens, but never in all that time had he seen a smile like the one now stretching across her face. It cried relief, it cried joy, it cried ecstasy._

_He set his bag down slowly on the floor, looking at her curiously. _

_"What is it?"_

_She stepped down the last few steps slowly, her smile, if possible, widening even further. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet as she touched down on the floorboards and clapped her hands like a child._

_"Guess!"_

_"Old Xeno has finally sold "The Quibbler" and it'll no longer pollute the wizarding world?"_

_She giggled and shook her head, more carefree than he'd ever seen her before._

_"Nope!"_

_He gave up the pretence and pushed his hands into his back, stretching. _

_"Go on then, tell me."_

_She laughed again and it was like bells chiming in the wind._

_"We're having a baby, Sirius. I'm pregnant."_

* * *

And in that moment his world had changed. Everything he'd ever thought was important was suddenly no longer – all that mattered to him was the woman crying in his arms and the life growing insider her.

How naïve he'd been. How stupid, how careless, how ungrateful he'd been to assume that his world would stay that way – that now he'd been gifted all that he'd ever wanted, his luck would stay that way. He, more than anyone, should have known that having something once didn't mean having it always.

* * *

_"Fuck me, I still can't believe you're going to be _parents."

_Hermione chuckled and patted her growing stomach. _

_"Neither can I," she admitted. "It's so surreal, still – it's not that I never wanted a baby, but to suddenly be faced with one is just… ridiculous. And amazing."_

_Ginny rolled her eyes._

_"Please. Once you've had your third you will lose your sense of wonder, believe me."_

_The older woman smiled. Ginny and Harry had begun their family very young – though only twenty five, they were already parents to six year old twins, James and Lily, three year old Albus, and baby Molly. Ginny had nearly reopened the family feud with Percy over the naming of her youngest daughter, her brother having wanted to name his first child after their mother – but in the end she'd beaten him to the registry office and he'd had settled for Allegra instead. _

_"I don't think I will. I think it will always be a miracle."_

_Ginny rolled her eyes. Since learning she was about to become a mother, her beloved feisty friend had more than mellowed – marshmallowed was the nearest phrase she could muster. Oh there was still fire, but unless someone was riling her than she drifted around in a permanent state of bliss._

_Wait until your ankles swell, the youngest Weasley thought. Then see if you're smiling all the time. _

* * *

But in the end of course, Ginny's grief at Hermione's death was only surpassed by that suffered by Sirius. How cruel life can be, to take those nearest to us when we need them most. To dash the hopes of the most hopeful. To crush the dreams of those who dreamed the wildest dreams of everyone.

Remus Lupin considered this as he sat brooding in the Headmaster's Study. He had hundreds of children under his care, and yet the only one he could think of was the little girl he knew now to be in Molly Weasley's care.

Still nameless.

* * *

_"I like Juliet," Hermione said absently, stroking her bump. At eight months gone, she was big, but not unreasonably so. Torn between resentment and amusement, Ginny had described her as "neat". Sirius had described her as "heavenly" – but right now he looked up at her in bewilderment._

_"Isn't she the girl in that muggle play who tops herself?"_

_His wife sighed._

_"Yes, but – no, wait, hear me out. She's also the ultimate romantic heroine – she died out of love, for love, for her love. Juliet is love – her name is synonymous with it. And I love you, and I love our child. We created her in love, and so her name should mean love."_

_"Still… suicide."_

_"Julietta then? That's pretty, you can't deny it."_

_"And if it's a boy?"_

_She shook her head. _

_"It's a girl," she said confidently. "I'm sure it is."_

_"I don't like the name Juliet though – what about… Jessica?"_

_Hermione screwed up her nose._

_"I had an awful aunt called Jessica. She only ever drank chamomile tea and her entire house stank of it, it was awful. You always knew when she was visiting because the smell would rise up through the house. Disgusting."_

_"Hmm maybe not then. What about… Mary?"_

_"Margaret?"_

_"Tabitha?"_

_"Lucy?"_

_"Skylar?"_

_"Sarah?"_

_He thought hard, screwing up his forehead in concentration. "What about Poppy?"_

_Hermione's head tilted to the side as she considered it. Her husband watched her, captivated as he'd always been watching her think – her rosebud lips pursed slightly, and her jaw reliably shifted as she lifted a hand to absently push back the hair that had fallen as her head moved._

_"Poppy…" She rolled it around her tongue. "Poppy Black. Poppy… Black. You know darling, I think you've found it." Her smile began slowly as she looked at him and grew as she felt her baby tumble inside her._

_"Our Poppy. Our baby. Our love."_

_There was a moment of quiet before she spoke again._

_"If anything ever happens to me, don't name her after me. She's her own person."_

_He snorted._

_"What's going to happen to you, silly girl?"_

_She didn't smile, but just stoked her belly._

_"Even so. Don't."_

* * *

Sirius stumbled into Molly's kitchen in the early hours of the morning, his face tear stained and lined. She was used to this – it wasn't the first time he'd sat drinking himself into a stupor in Grimmuald Place, before being wracked with guilt and apparating to The Burrow. Wordlessly she summoned a chair for him and pushed him into it one-handed, the other cradling his sleeping daughter.

He fell into it with a crash, and silence beat throughout the room before Molly spoke.

"I loved her too," she said levelly. "She was your wife, but to me she was my daughter just as much as Ginny. I'll take care of her child as long as I need to, but she's yours – for the sake of her mother's memory, take her and raise her and love her. Let her grow up with love in her heart, not conflict. She needs to know her father loves her not that he blames her for her mother's death."  
"I don't blame her," Sirius spat though ground teeth. "I don't."

Molly stared him straight in the eye as she spoke.

"It certainly looks like it."

* * *

_"SIRIUS!"_

_Hermione screamed her husband's name again, knowingly it was futile, but she being unable to do anything else. She was lying on the bathroom floor, her body wracked with pain and unable to move her legs or torso. It was the most she could do to prop herself up on her elbows._

_"SIRIUS!"_

_But – there was something she could do, how could she have forgotten?!_

_"Accio wand," she whispered, and it faithfully flew into her hand. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back and wordlessly summoned a patronus, sending it straight to the hospital for help as tears streamed down her cheeks._

* * *

He couldn't deny it. He did blame that little scrap of life. He blamed it for tearing Hermione's body apart, for damaging her beyond repair, for taking her from him. He still clung to the memory of his wife despite the only real memory of her left being that of her daughter – their daughter, who he couldn't even look at because her newborn-blue eyes had already changed to chocolate brown.

With a howl, his body folded in half as he stood before the roaring fireplace, his hands clutching his knees as he gasped for breath. This was not fair, not at all. If only Hermione hadn't destroyed the world's supply of time-turners, he'd go back to that blasted night when he'd left her alone while he'd been sitting drinking firewhiskey with Remus, toasting for the safe arrival of his child.

Fool that he was, it hadn't occurred to him that Hermione, fighter that she was, wouldn't make it. He hadn't listened to her prophetic comment when they'd been discussing a name – which he still hadn't chosen. He couldn't bear to call her "Poppy" as he'd suggested, because he didn't feel enough of a father to deserve that right – every bone in his body screamed to call her "Hermione" instead as it was the only way for her name to not become unspoken, but she'd forbidden it. The alternative was to pick an entirely different name but that wasn't an option.

So instead, he blocked himself off from the world, and wept.

* * *

That night, Hermione visited him.

Not as a ghost – she would have appeared long before if she was going to return – but in a dream.

And in this dream, she sat beside him and stroked his shaggy black hair, even more out of control since her death, and remained wordless as they both wept. Yet even as she did nothing but hold his gaze, he felt more love that he'd ever done before – not just for her, but for their baby, for life, and for himself and his own ability to be a parent. Every thought of taking his life, or running away, vanished. He realised that, while the practical responsibilities of parenthood would rest alone with him, he remembered what he'd forgotten – that those whom we love never truly leave us. While he might not see Hermione for a very long time, perhaps never again, she would always be beside him, forever young as he grew old, and their child grew beautiful.

Hermione smiled at him with wet eyes.

"Love her," she whispered. "Love our Poppy, and name her as you wanted – you're her father. You will be the most wonderful father there's ever been. I trust you, and I love you. I would have come back if I didn't, and you know that."

"I miss you," he choked out. "You should be here."

She gripped his hand and he caught his breath, because she was as warm as life.

"I am here," she said passionately, leaning in to him so he could see the fire of love burning bright and warm and fierce in her eyes. "I will never leave either of you." She blinked and for a moment her composure wavered. "Let her know me."

His sob caught in the back of his throat as he replied.

"Always."

* * *

Not a day went by when Sirius didn't wish Hermione's warmth presence by his side – but, true to her word, she didn't leave her. He glimpsed her on days both important and ordinary. At Poppy's naming, she was there in the sunny garden, her light dress blowing in the breeze and weeping tears of joy. On the first day he broke down of pure exhaustion, her presence materialised in the form of a warm hand on his back. When Poppy first crawled, it was towards a ball he'd seen her roll across the floor from behind the little girl – their eyes met across the room in joint pride.

As Poppy grew older, Hermione appeared less, but never in any less love. He would always be angry and grief-struck that she wasn't there to light birthday candles, or plait hair, or buy robes, or to tell Poppy herself how special she was. Every night Sirius tucked their daughter into bed, he would tell her how loved she was, by both her parents, how talented, how beautiful, but it was wrong that she couldn't hear it from Hermione's own mouth.

He knew that the day would come when Poppy would ask for more details of her mother, but he already knew what he'd tell her.

That her mother lived in the flowers in the garden, in the sunshine in the sky, and in the soft grass beneath her feet. Her mother lived in the familiarity of home, the comfort of a hug, and the love of a kiss. Her mother was the force of warmth that caressed her cheek when she cried, and in the strength that picked her up when she cried. Her mother was all that was good, and kind, and strong.

Because that way, she could never be lost to her.

**A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts! 3 **


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